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Tuesday, December 27, 2011

A little late due to the holiday craziness, but here is the flash fiction I did last week. Due to work and the holidays, I wasn't able to do as much as I normally do, but this week I should be back in action. :)

#MotivationMonday

Title: Can I Get a Re-do?

“That’s just great. Now my flashlight doesn’t work!” I muttered as I was encased in darkness. This was just par for course with how my day was going.

It all started out when I woke up an hour late for work. As I scrambled through my morning routine, everything that could go wrong did: the hot water ran out midway through my shower, I got soap in my eye, the sole of my shoe separated from the upper as I slipped them on, and the coffee burned. That really irked me. A good cup of coffee could make any crappy morning better.

On my way work, I got stuck in road construction and the freeway became a parking lot. The minutes ticked by as I became later and later for work. My cell phone rang as I stared at the break lights of the car in front of me. It was my boss. I cringed on how that conversation was going to go.

All I heard was a fizzy static as I put the phone to my ear. When I pulled it away from the and looked at it, the screen of my cell phone was fried, the color and picture all distorted.

“Great,” I said to myself in disgust as traffic finally opened up and I started down the road again.

At work, I was treated to much of the same. My computer gave me the BSOD, my printer jammed, and phone calls that weren’t meant for me kept getting transferred to my desk.

When I left work for the day, I noticed one of the tires of my car was flat. While stuck in that construction zone on the way to work, I picked up a nail. I was just glad that it hadn’t blown my tire while I was still driving.

Finally at home, I breathed a sigh of relief. Surely, now that I was at home, nothing else could happen.

I was wrong.

I was in the middle of making when the power went out. When I poked my head out the window, it was apparent that I wasn’t the only one. I shrugged my shoulders and found my flashlight and some candles ... except I couldn’t find any matches or a lighter.

Chocking it up to how the well the day had gone so far, I shuffled off to my bedroom to try to read by flashlight. It was too early to go to bed, but there wasn’t much else I could do without power. Sure I could get on my laptop, but without power, my wireless router didn’t work either, negating Internet surfing.

I was in the middle of a rather engaging chapter of my book when the wan light of my flashlight became to sputter, waver, then completely stop. Shrouded in darkness, I tossed my book on the floor and stared up at the ceiling.

All in all, I should’ve just stayed in bed and called it a day.

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#MenageMonday
My entry won "Funniest Story"

Title: Possessed by Reindeer

The wire Christmas decorations groaned as they baked in the warm Florida winter. To the casual observer, they were just that: innocent, wire Christmas decorations. However, looks were deceiving.

“Harath, whose bright idea was this?” the middle reindeer rumbled.

“Sitha,” Harath responded, the thin metal that made up his body shuddering. “He said he had a surefire way for us to return to Earth. When I agreed, we ended up here.”

“How are we supposed to take over the world and strike fear into humanity as lawn décor?!” the third member of the trio chimed in.

“I haven’t figured that out yet, Raz,” Harath replied, thinking that Raz would’ve been better left back on the other side. Yet again, another idea by Sitha who said the more the merrier.

Their mission was to return to Earth and make the humans quiver in fear of the undead creatures who were about to subjugate them. However, there was a caveat. They couldn’t just appear on Earth in their true form, which could not pass over. So they had to find another vessel for their essences to reside, but it could not be currently occupied by a living creature.

Some creatures went for dead bodies but the flesh decayed too quickly. However, Harath had not anticipated this. It certainly made it hard to strike fear into anyone when they looked like cute holiday decorations.

Harath sighed and tried to think of a way to get out of the mess they were in.

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#TuesdayTales

Title: Nothing Says Lovin’ Like Somethin’ Warm From the Oven

Frank gently stroked his wife’s back as she slept, noticing a bit of cookie dough stuck in her hair. He enjoyed moments like these, when she was free of the stress of life. She looked as young as the day he met her.

She was baking Christmas snickerdoodles when he interrupted her. It wasn’t just the heat of the oven that fogged up the kitchen window that night. Some of the cookies burned and the dough ended up in strange places. It was a fun night though.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Here's the flash fiction that I wrote this week. :) The only one I missed out on was the #FridayPictureShow hosted by @JenD_Author. Work was so crazy yesterday that I didn't have a chance to get my prompt in. Another week.

#MenageMonday

Title: A Rose By Any Other Name

It was the Johnson City Transform-Your-Ride event. People came out far and wide with their cars, trucks, and crossovers modified to look like anything they could imagine and build and still operate as a vehicle.

In a huge parking lot, the vehicles were lined up like ducks in a row with groups of people surrounding each one. Interwoven the groups were off-duty cops who certified each entry was street legal.

Two of the most popular entries was a pink Jeep, outfitted to look like a pig, and a SUV made into a were-moose. While the pig was just painted and had some steel additions, the owner of the were-moose went all out.

The man stood proudly to the side of his were-wonder, describing to fans all the work he put into it, including the shag carpeting on the roof and sides of the car, horns made from ironwork, wrapped in felt, and the teeth wired to the grill of the SUV out of Styrofoam and lacquer.

Needless to say, the were-moose won. He took a bite out of the competition.

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#TuesdayTales

Title: Home Is Where the Heart Is

They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, except Hell isn’t some abstract place full of fire and brimstone. It’s here in Perdition, in this wretched town, full of wretched people.

When I arrived, I started out with a purpose to do great things, but ended up getting stuck and unable to leave. This town sucks the life out of you and leaves nothing but a vacant shell. You can see it in the eyes of those stuck here with me, as they go through the motions of living.

Is this really living or is this damnation?

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#5MinuteFictionTitle: The Difference A Year Makes

It was a new year. A new day. A new chance.

Would I waste it as I have years before?

It seemed as each year went by, I could only see the missed opportunities and missed chances. I never looked forward, only backward.

If I had only took that one job … if I only said yes to that date … if I had only turned left instead of right.

The list went on and on, always second guessing myself.

My psychologist said it was a lack of confidence. I questioned it, wondering if going to see him was the right choice.

Apparently I just proved his point.

This year was going to be different. The past was in the past. I couldn’t change what has already happened; I could only change what could happen.

This year was going to be different. I was tired of living in the shadow of my past, both good and bad.

This year was going to be different, and I was starting today.

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#HumpDayChallenge

Title: The Wind of Change

“You can’t be serious about publishing this journal,” Dr. Spiner challenged the research scientist.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You have molecules listed in the wrong categories!” the doctor shouted, tossing down the rough draft of the publication on the table. “The periodic table of elements isn’t a guesstimate, you idiot!”

Henry, the belittled research assistant, picked up his paper with a snort. “I know it’s not, Dr. Spiner, but my research is an important commodity to science. It reveals new information that will completely change how the world views the PTOE, which you would’ve known if you actually read it.”

Opening my eyes, something felt off, something nagged at the back of my mind … a flash of light, of metal. I was in my room, but not. I felt awake, but not. It was very strange. I got up and moved around, everything the same but somehow different.

The moment I stepped out of my bedroom, reality fell away. Before me was a vast hall, bright and luminous, full of all different kinds of people. A petite, red-headed woman walked toward me with a gentle smile.

“Welcome to the Otherside, Morgan.” she said.

“How do you know me?” I asked. “And who are you? What’s the Otherside?

“I’m Elleria. I’m here to show you around.”

“And here is?”

“The Otherside.”

“What?”

“The Otherside,” she repeated, patiently. “You died last night in a car accident. Now, you’re an angel.”

I sputtered, completely confused as I looked around at all the other people in the hall moving around with purpose.

“Are all these others … ?”

She nodded. “Yes. Contrary to popular belief, angels come in all shapes and sizes, with all kinds of wings.”

“Wings?” I looked behind me and didn’t see anything sprouting from my back.

“Not in the literal sense, Morgan. Your wings are your transportation when you are earthbound. It could be a car, a bike, anything. Come, it’s time to show you around.”

Cara Michaels, author of Gaea's Chosen: The Mayday Directive,came up with a great idea, in the spirit of Nanowrimo, to keep us all writing. It's called WIP500. Basically, you just write 500 words a day. That's it. If you do more, great, but get that 500. After a year, you'd be amazed at what you can get done. On Cara's website, she outlines how you can participate. I think this is an absolutely BRILLIANT idea and I can't wait to start.

You can find information about it here: WIP500 and can be followed on Twitter with the following tag: #WIP500, as well as any of the other links I gave to Cara's site (and check out her book too!).

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

So ... I think I promised not to be so absent from posting and here it's been nearly a month. Shame on me. Work has been busy and just life in general. Now that Nano is over, it's time for Christmas which has been keeping me busy.

This year I'm making a lot of homemade gifts, namely the edible variety. I've already done one batch of cookies, going to do a lot more stuff (chocolate dipped goodies, barks, maybe some spiced nuts). It's going to be a tasty Christmas.

When not in the kitchen, I've been trying to get back on the flash fiction bandwagon. Here are my entries for the #MenageMonday, #TuesdayTales, and #5MinuteFiction. The results of #MenageMonday haven't been released yet, but I'm a finalist on the #5MinuteFiction. #TuesdayTales results will be released tomorrow.

Roger stood at the janitor’s desk and regaled the staff with his oh-so-exciting story about his weekend. He came down every morning and tried to flirt with Sharon. She was too nice to tell him to go away, even if his halitosis made the entire room smell. Her numerous mentions of a boyfriend also did not dissuade the clueless Casanova. Cleary, the man could not tell that no one wanted to hear his mostly made-up stories.

Roger was in the middle of a torrid story about how he found fuzzy dice that he swore were owned by Christopher Walken. At an alleged Christmas party he was at, Roger was rooting through the host’s sock drawer and found a Christmas stocking with “CW” embroidered on it.

The whole room collectively rolled their eyes, as if saying “Thanks for sharing!” while making a note to lock their bedroom doors if he was ever in their homes.

Roger continued, nonplussed. Deep in the toe of the stocking were old fuzzy dice. He quickly snatched the dice and left the party.

He dug into his pocket and plopped the dice down on the counter. “I thought you might like them, Sharon.”

He was tall, dark, and handsome, and incredibly ugly … such an attractive man with such a horrible personality. Sure, he was pleasant to look at but as soon as he opened his mouth, it was downhill from there. It would’ve been perfect if he was the strong, silent type. However, he was of the loud, boorish variety.

If I didn’t have to put up with him for my job, I would’ve shoved him out of the airlock one cycle ago. Seriously. Even now I was starting to wonder if the credits I earned for my time were worth this kind of torture. Maybe I could inquire for hazard pay. Dealing with him was truly a life-threatening experience.

“Where’s my cargo?” he blared through the intercom, not even bothering to ask if I was busy.

I rolled my eyes and pressed the comlink. “All cargo is kept in the suspensor bay by the main airlock, Mr. Schrock.”

“I need it now.”

“Access to the suspensor bay is not permitted during the flight.”

“Well, stop.”

I wanted to bang my head against my control board. “I cannot stop the ship mid-jump, Mr. Schrock. Our ETA at your destination is less than four hours. You will be able to retrieve whatever you need at that time.”

“Unacceptable.”

I gritted my teeth and tried to remember why I was doing this. It was hard to remember when faced with this kind of passenger. Would it really be noticed if Mr. Schrock never made it to his destination? Would anyone really miss him?

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Woo! Friday was Week 3 of the newest flash contest, #FridayPictureShow, started by my friend Jen DeSantis. I was last entry in, barely squeaking by, posting at 7:59 ET. It had been a super busy day, so it wasn't until it was almost the deadline that I was able write long enough to put words togeether in a way that makes sense.

There were a ton a great entries, so I thought my chances were slim. The prompt was great, tho (see left), and I had a ton of fun with my entry, written in the world of my Nano novel.

It worked because I won! :) WOooO!OO!OO!O!OOOO!! I now have a fancy badge to add to my blog. :)

Here's my entry and check out Jen's blog for the rest of the entries:

Alana climbed over the broken timbers of the old roller coaster as David followed behind her. This was where their research had led them. Before it was abandoned, long before it was an amusement park, this was where David’s ancestor had confronted the Destroyers and defeated them. His ancestor, as powerful as he was, wasn’t Alana. He wasn’t a Creator.

All these years, the destroyers had been laying in wait to make their reappearance. This was where the last and final showdown would eventually be. Soon, Alana would be ready to end what was started long before she was born.

Alana raced to the police station as she crossed the street. She needed help; there was a strange man that continued to hover around her anytime she left her house and she didn’t know how to get rid of him.

At the main desk, a buck-toothed dispatcher watched at her with disinterest as she tried to tell her story. Other officers looked on as she spoke, with the same disinterested apathy. It was like they were all under some spell.

“What the hell is wrong with you people?” she yelled, no longer trying to humble herself to the police.

Every night was the same, he came to me. He came in me. I didn’t know his name, he didn’t know mine. We didn’t need names or labels, we just were.

By day he was gone, perhaps a mirage or a ghost or my imagination. I did not care.

His touch set me afire, his kisses blistering, his body scorching.

As we moved together, his thrusts ignited a passion in me that no mortal man had before. I rose above myself, still entwined with his body. We soared, together adrift in our lovemaking, never ending until daybreak touched the sheets.

“Say what you want about the shoes, but my husband certainly likes them,” Marianne said as she showed off her patent leather heels.

“Oh, my John likes the shoes too,” Leilana agreed. “However, what he likes about the shoes is a bit disconcerting.”

Marianne arched an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“Hmm, how do I say this?” Leilana hesitated before continuing. “He likes to … wear them.”

“No!” The expression of shock on Marianne’s face was practically risible.

“Yes!” Leilana assured. “He goes nuts for them. I’ve been married to the man for over ten years and never knew he had such a shoe fetish!” She took a sip of her mojito as she gathered her thoughts. “You know those red platforms I bought last month that I just couldn’t want to wear out?”

Marianne nodded.

“He stole them! I never even got a chance to wear them before he had them all stretched out! The worst part is that he … he … masturbated on them! They’re ruined!”

Marianne choked on her sip of her drink. “Seriously?”

“Yes! I’m so embarrassed, shocked … gah, I don’t know what to feel, except I need a shoe locker with a strong lock.”

Despite her anxiety, Alana was in high spirits. David was a source of effervescence for her. He made the anxiety and fear roll off her back when all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and pretend that no one was after her.

As she looked out from his bedroom balcony, she no longer feared the outdoors. Between her pendant and the protection David provided, she knew that the destroyers could not hurt her.She just had to figure out how to defeat them once and for all before they hurt anyone else in her family.

Prompt: Your main character encounters your world’s version of the goose that laid the golden egg.

Holy cow. I mean HOLY cow. Literally. Well, not literally since I wasn’t Hindu but still. This was awesome. I would be set for life. Hell, I’d be set for my next life too … and possibly the life after that.

I never would have thought I would have found the answer here of all places. Not quite exactly where one would expect it to be. Would you expect the THE book to just be laying there?

This wasn’t just any book, mind you. And no, it wasn’t the Bible or the Qur’an or the Vedas or even the Idiots Guide to Life.

No, this was much more important and world altering.

I had found a first edition, signed copy of, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Monday was the All Hallow's Eve edition of #MenageMonday. I won scariest story! WOO! I got a fancy schmancy badge to add to my blog (see to the right) Check out the site to see all the prompts and here is my submission.

Title: Reality of Dreams

I no longer knew how long I had been running, only that it felt like forever. Something sinister was after me. Something that didn’t just want me dead, it wanted me destroyed, obliterated.

Earlier, I was cleaning up my yard from a storm that morning. As I scooped the last pile into the trash, I heard a furious roar and witnessed the utter destruction of my home. It was reminiscent of the ending of Poltergeist; completely frightening and totally unbelievable if I hadn’t witnessed it with my own eyes.

Terrified, I took off, running in the opposite direction. Strange baying called from behind me; angry, huge creatures. Chilled to the bone, it spurred me to run faster. When I found the railroad tracks, I followed, hoping that maybe I would find something that could help me.

Looking down the tracks, I was startled by a large dust storm billowing across the horizon. I certainly didn’t see that coming. This day had gone from beyond fucked up to completely insane.

This wasn’t any dust storm I had ever seen before. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, but I saw faces in the surface of the storm. They looked vaguely skeletal, and angry with mouths open like they were screaming. This did not bode well for me at all.

Uncertain on where to go, I stopped running and tried to catch my bearing. Right away, I heard the sounds of baying, except they were much closer than ever. The dust storm was approaching very quickly. I had no idea what to do or where to go.

The baying was very near now, so close I could almost feel the moist breath as the monster neared. Sand began to sting my cheeks. I turned away from the storm, only to come face to face with the biggest coyote/wolf/dog thing I had ever seen. The creature bared its teeth and saliva dripped from its sharp canines. Three more just like it were right behind.

Terrified, I took a step back and get sucked into the storm. The sand abraded my skin, searing pain shot across my body. The sand around me turned red with my blood as it swirled and tore into me. Suddenly, one of the creatures lunged at me, its huge jaw clamping down on my arm.

I screamed out in pain as the bones of my arm shattered.

I woke up, my scream dying in my throat. As I took several deep breaths, I looked at my unharmed arm. There wasn’t a hair out of place. With a huge sigh of relief, I ran my fingers through my hair and looked up.

Staring at me from across the room was the same creature from my dream. It snarled, its dark fur standing on end, as its saliva dripped with wet splats onto my floor.

A dripping trail of cum oozed down her leg as he pulled out and stood. She struggled to sit up against the cold stone bench he had just fucked her on. Earlier, the gentle moonlight made the cemetery look like a romantic place for a rendezvous but as the fog moved in, the night took on an evil cast.

She looked up, but as soon as she did, the woman was stunned by the sudden malevolence emanating from the man. He leaned over her, his smile anything but friendly. The last thing she felt were his teeth at her neck.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

As October lurches toward the second half of the month, the start of National Novel Writing Month nears. Are you participating? Are you ready? Are you scared out of your mind?

My first attempt at Nano last year was, for me, successful. Granted I didn't get to the 50k word goal, but I wrote. I wrote just about every day, plugging away at my first attempt at a novel since I was 20. I haven't finished it yet, but I will. The characters I've spent so much time on deserve to have the rest of their story told, it is just not meant to be today.

There seems to be two groups of people when it comes to Nano. Those that outline and those that don't. Neither one is right or wrong, just a matter of what you as a writer perfer. I am an outliner. I tend to be anal/OCD in some tendencies and I try to be as prepared as possible. I will have a thorough outline, backstory notes, and character sketches ready by October 31st. Now whether all that preparation translates into a novel is another story.

I've seen many a blog post by other writers with advice and anecdotes of their previous experience with Nano. And while all of it is good, when it comes to YOU actually writing, how much can their tips help? After all, it can be quite daunting to write a novel. Will anything they say stay with you when you stare at that blinking cursor on November 1st?

I will throw in my own bit of sage advice, much of which will largely be unnecessary when it comes to that first day. It doesn't matter how you write or what you write. What matters is that you ...

Happy Wednesday to all of you. Here is my entry in Tracey Hansen's #HumpDayChallenge. The rest of the entries and info about the contest, should you wish to join, can be found here: Tracey's Tavern

Title: Never Say Diet*

The air in the kitchen shimmered as my new, shiny digital Richard Simmons steamer work its magic on a poor piece of chicken and some potatoes. This was one more attempt at a diet for me. One more attempt to try to find my hips and maybe keep my thighs from rubbing together.

I tried to hide my distain, but steamed chicken just wasn’t the same as a good steak cooked over a grill and served with compound butter. Steamed food was like foreplay … it got you interested but left you raging for the main course.

*Title is the name of one of Richard Simmons’ numerous books. I also own one of his steamers. It was a wedding gift … and while not so great as a wedding gift, it does work very well.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Happy Tuesday to you all... I entered this week's #5MinuteFiction after being momentarily stumped by the prompt. Yet, I made it as a finalist! Woo! Check out the site and all the entries and vote. Leah Petersen #5MinuteFiction

Here's mine ... the first line was the prompt.

Title: Hunger

More dangerous than it is beautiful, the jungle pities no man, especially a man who enters unprepared. This is where Sergio found himself, knee-deep in a mire and unable to extricate himself. As he tried to reach for branches or vines, anything to pull him out, the jungle waited, patient as it was old, until Sergio tired of his feeble attempts.

The jungle was hungry, the vines could practically taste the nourishment that his fleshy body would provide. The small animals and insects jittered in excitement. Soon it would be time to feed. Soon it would be time for Sergio to scream. Soon.

Monday, October 17, 2011

D Ryan Leask has joined the foray into hosting flash fiction contests with his #3forThursday contest. It's rather ingenious, really ... you get three prompts in three hours, and you have multiple ways to play ... just with individual prompts, with all three in one 300 word story, or all three in one 100 word story. During Week 3, I decided to go all out and enter in all three categories (Speed, Classic, and Blind) and I won all three! Clean sweep! (Although, to be honest, I was the only entry in the Classic Play division). It was still awesome to win ... even if I had to wait a week to find out. Poor Ryan and his whole family were down with the flu. Never fun times there. My new badges are on the right side of the blog now. Woo! :)

Here's a link to his blog if you want to check out the new contest and read all the entries.#3forThursday

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Something a bit different this week for Glitterlady's #TuesdayTales. The first 100 words were posted on Glitterlady's blog as a hook and the rest is posted here. For continuality, I posted the first 100 here as well. The prompt is: spectrum

Visions

Alana walked through town, completely unprepared for the sudden assault of images in her mind. What was happening to her? Her thoughts were filled with a spectrum of evil, of blood, demons, and death. Stumbling, she steadied herself against a nearby park bench.

The silver spiral pendant around her neck sparkled as she moved, reflecting the sunlight. Out of habit, she rubbed the pendant between her thumb and forefinger.

Instantly, the evil thoughts left her mind, just as quickly as they appeared. Breathless and disoriented, she sat on the bench and tried to figure out what just happened.

“Alana?”

She turned and saw the figure of her friend David walking quickly down the street toward her.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

“Uh, yeah,” she replied. “I just got dizzy all of a sudden.” Telling David the truth didn’t seem like a wise idea. The last thing she wanted was for him, her first friend in her new town, to think she was crazy.

“Does this normally happen to you?” David asked as he sat down next to her on the bench.

“No, but I haven’t eaten yet today so maybe that’s why.” That wasn’t a complete lie. She hadn’t eaten breakfast and it was mid-afternoon.

Alana had spent a good portion of the morning cleaning up the house, dusting and sorting through what was left to her by her grandparents. It was a long process and she still had the upstairs and attic to complete.

“Alana, it’s nearly 3pm! Why haven’t you eaten?”

“I guess I forgot?”

David harrumphed and shook his head as he rose from the bench, holding his hand out to Alana. “Come on, time to feed you. There’s a great diner around the corner from here that serves breakfast all day long.”

“Breakfast?” Alana asked as she stood with his help, her legs still a little shaky.

“Yep. It’s the most important meal of the day!” he announced with a smile on his face.

Alana returned his smile, thinking of how handsome her friend was and that he should smile more often.

As they walked, they passed the town hall and clock tower. Alana looked up and a flash of the images returned. Blood was everywhere, and evil spirits surrounded a car that was smashed beyond recognition. A baby was crying, piercing the sudden quiet.

She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut as tight as she could. When she re-opened them, everything was back to normal. No blood, no smashed car, no spirits.

Am I going crazy? she thought to herself.

David peered down at her, concern clearly etched across his face. “Alana?”

Shaking her head, she resumed walking. She was stopped a moment later by David’s hand on her arm.

“Alana, what just happened?” The look on his face told her he wasn’t going to be easily brushed off.

“It was nothing,” she said, trying to make her voice light. “Let’s go eat.”

“No, Alana,” David insisted. “That wasn’t nothing. Your face became as white as a sheet and you looked terrified. What happened?” He stood in front of her and grasped her upper arms firmly.

Alana bowed her head, unable to look him in the eye and instead stuck with staring at his chest …which wasn’t really a bad thing but was at an inappropriate moment.

“Hey,” he said softly, lifting her chin with his finger so he could look in her eye. “It’s okay, Alana. You can tell me.”

She sighed, realizing he was not going to give up. “I saw something that scared me.”

His brows furrowed in puzzlement. “What was it?”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she said with resignation. “I saw a car accident. It was horrible. A baby was crying and there was blood … so much blood.” She shuddered as the image came back to her.

David rubbed her back as he pulled her into a hug. “It’s okay, Alana. You’re safe.”

She sank into David’s arms, her fear ebbing out of her. Alana had no idea what brought that image on or if it was a distant memory. Something about it seemed so familiar but she couldn’t put a finger on it.

David continued to hold her, running a hand through her hair in an effort to relax her. “I’ve got you, Alana. No one can hurt you, and I don’t think you’re crazy.”

Alana buried her face into his chest, only then realizing she had been crying when his shirt felt wet. She was so afraid that he would treat her differently if he knew what she saw. Lord only knew what he would think when she told him about the voices and whispers she heard as well. Alana decided to keep that to herself for the time being.

With a deep breath, she finally pushed away from David’s chest. He didn’t completely let go, but kept an arm around her protectively. “Let’s go eat,” she said softly. While she still wasn’t hungry, she’d need her strength and her wits about her. She didn’t know what was going on, but felt that it was only the tip of the iceberg.

Monday, October 3, 2011

Yet another flash fiction contest. And I wonder why it is taking me so long to finish my novel or start a new one or get ready for NaNoWriMo...

Hosted by the lovely Cara Michaels at her blog: Defiantly Literate. This contest runs from 7am to 8pm EST, limit from 100-200 words, and has three prompts: a phrase, a picture, and usually a subject matter or person. Check out her blog for this week's prompts, or read my entry and see if you can guess what they are.

“So do you normally take girls to cemeteries on the first date, Nate?” Claudia asked.

Nate scratched his beard as he smiled. “Only the special ones.”

Claudia blushed and looked down at her lap.

“I find it comforting here,” he added.

Claudia cocked her head to one side, considering his words. “Why?”

“All of these people are at peace.”

“And this is really comforting for you?”

Nate nodded. “Yes, it really is.”

“I’d hate to see what’s uncomfortable for you,” Claudia quipped as she took a bite of her sandwich.

“Violence,” he replied quietly, his blue eyes sad as he looked around.

She didn’t comment, instead finished the last of the wine in her glass. Nate grabbed the bottle of wine sitting next to him and began to refill her glass. “Last call,” he teased.

Claudia rolled her eyes and smiled at her date. “What kind of work do you do, Nate?”

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

It is with deepest regret that we inform you of the cancellation of your cruise aboard the Dynamic Star.

During an ill-fated dice game, it was revealed that the Activities Coordinator, Stephan, was involved in a decade long affair with the Chef’s wife. Chef Raul was furious and the two men became entangled in a physical brawl.

The brawl continued into the kitchen, where Raul overpowered Stephan. Chef Raul was found laughing merrily in the kitchen while Stephan’s testicles sizzled on the flattop, a bloody meat cleaver lying nearby. Stephan was never found.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Because I apparently don't have entirely enough to do, I started participating in another flash fiction contest. This one is hosted by Glitterlady on her blog: Glitter Word

The contest is similiar to others; 100 word limit, prompt to write from is a word and a picture.

Prompt: Shoal and picture of water pouring

It was hypnotic, the way the water tumbled from the waterfall onto the shoal below. I stared into the pulsating flow, watching the minute images reflected on the jumbling surface, small bits of the world refracted for an instant.

I glanced at my feet, sunken ankle deep into the pool. The current of the shallow was swift, much faster than it appeared. As the water moved around my feet, it looked like little fingers were racing across my skin and bones, miniature eddies stirring in the wake.

Kneeling, I trailed my fingers into the water, forming gashes as it moved.

Prompt: Pale light, broken apart into individual beams by the thick diamondglass of the skylight, cast stark shadows on the faces of the four men seated around a small table.

Pale light, broken apart into individual beams by the thick diamondglass of the skylight, cast stark shadows on the faces of the four men seated around a small table. The men said not a word, but watched the center of the table in awe. Only their breaths and the occasional thump from the table could be heard.

The four men had been brought together in the nondescript room with the promise of something that would change their world, something that would shift their view of the world on its axis. While the majority of them didn’t believe the claims when they walked through the plain door, they all did now.

One of the men shifted in his seat, itching to touch what was moving around on the small table. He wanted to see if it was as soft as it looked. If it was as warm as it appeared. Respectfully, he looked at the other men, seeking permission. His three companions nodded. Slowly, the enamored man reached down and scooped up what was on the table.

The tiny silver striped kitten meowed as he held her. The man gently petted her head and scratched under her chin, careful not to hold her too tightly. The kitten closed her eyes and snuggled into his hands, purring loudly. The man sighed, feeling a sense of completion he had never felt before.

I barely had time two weeks ago to crank out this little gem but I tried. I was a finalist but didn't win (again ... LOL). My friend Jennifer DeSantis keeps on winning. Although, I can't think of a better person to lose to every time. She's a great writer.

Prompt: I always thought that if I were going to write a novel, this is how it would start.

I always thought that if I were going to write a novel, this is how it would start. There would be some big bang of something exploding or something incredible that would hook the reader in. However, when I looked at this … this crap on my desk, I realized the only thing it would hook would be a nap.

Angrily, I crumbled up the few pages of crap I wrote and threw them into the metal trash can next to my desk. The can was starting to get full from all of the other bits of garbage I had tried to write.

There were so many distractions. First the kids ran in, assuming that if I was home, that meant I was available to them. Then someone would call me or text me … or the time suck of all, someone would mention me on Twitter. If I logged onto my twitter account, an hour would pass before I realized what happened. Once that happened, it was just a free pass to any kind of distraction … blog posts I just HAD to read, the news would be on, my husband would be home from work, the list was never-endin

Methinks I needed to unplug my computer, grab my notebook, and go to the park to free myself of my home distractions … maybe I could write there and make something blow up … or something worth reading.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

A friend of mine is a librarian in the area and started a creative writing guild for area writers or anyone interested in writing. After our first few meetings, he created writing prompts for us as our 'homework' for the following meeting the next month. The prompts are a fun way to play with different styles of writing and to help keep those creative juices flowing.

Here is the prompt I wrote for this month's meeting (today) and the pictures that inspired it (he got the pictures from Cracked.com).

"Game Time"

“Dad, I wanna play!”

The sound of electronic beeps filled the air

“Soon, son. I need to make sure this is safe for you to play.”

More sounds filled the air, followed by a congratulatory trill from a small, electronic device in the father’s hands.

“Daaaaaaad.”

“Just a second. I just need to get past .... this ... level.”

The son sat and tried to wait patiently, all the while watching his father mash buttons on the handheld game unit.

------

“Dad, what do you think they are doing with that DS?” a little boy asked his father as they stood outside of the primate exhibit.

The sounds of a handheld game unit carried over to the pair, over the noise of the zoo.

“Looks like they are playing with it.”

“Do you think they’d let me play with them?” the little boy asked. “I have some cool games for my DS.”

The father chuckled and glanced at the other father behind the cement and Plexiglas barricade. They shared a look that only fathers understood.

“I don’t know, son.”

“Why?”

The father thought for a moment on how to answer his son. “Well, Alex, you didn’t bring any of your games for your DS with you.”

The boy’s face became crestfallen as he looked longingly at the father and son ape playing with the DS. “Maybe next time,” he said softly.

Friday, September 9, 2011

Here's what I wrote for this week's prompt. I'm not sure quite why, but I felt inspired to write a story about a family impacted by 9/11 (well, haven't we all to some extent?). I'm sure it could be better written, but it is what it is.

Andrew and Cecilia were well on their way to that goal in 2001. She was pregnant with their first child and they were pet parents to a crabby but lovable orange tabby. The cat was crabby when she didn’t want to be petted and lovable when she wanted attention. It was a source of amusement for the couple to watch the moods of their mercurial cat. As Cecilia’s pregnancy progressed, her moods became even more volitle than the cat’s. Andrew didn’t find that as humorous. They also found out that Smita was expecting as well. Cecilia and Smita grew closer, sharing the bond of impending motherhood.

Like so many other days, that September morning was like any other. Never in a million years would Cecilia have thought that the last time she’d see her husband was when he left for work that morning, heading in early for an important conference call.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Prompt: It was green and orange and the most frightening thing he’d ever seen.

It was green and orange and the most frightening thing he’d ever seen. Seriously. Steak Diane wasn’t supposed to look like this. Paul glanced up at his wife, who was hovering with a hopeful look on her face. She had worked so hard at her culinary classes but it seemed that it was all for naught.

Plastering a smile on his face that he hoped was believable; he leaned over the plate and took a big whiff. The noxious odors coming from the plate almost made him add to the colorful mixture on the plate, but he held strong for his dear wife.

“This smells great, Katie. I can’t wait to try it,” he said, without a drop of insincerity.

“Really?” she said, her eyes brimming with happiness. “It doesn’t look quite like the picture from the recipe, but I followed it exactly,”

“I’m sure it’s fine, sweetheart,” he lied.

Katie sighed happily and sat down across from her husband. Paul cut into the pile on his plate, not sure where the steak actually was, and took a bite.

Here's my older entries in the #5MinuteFiction contest hosted by Leah Petersen
Prompt: When the ten gods of the Kingdom of Rezzia went to war with the mystics of the lands of Pawelon, neither side could gain any advantage until

When the ten gods of the Kingdom of Rezzia went to war with the mystics of the lands of Pawelon, neither side could gain any advantage until the mystics discovered the one thing that would give them an edge.

Sarla, one of the researchers of Pawelon, had been digging through ancient scrolls of the times before to try to find any kind of clue on how to end the stalemate that was draining both lands of men, food, and spirit. She had looked through at least a dozen faded and worn scrolls when she found what she was looking for. It was an obscure reference to sacrifice, one that would give the Pawelon mystics the additional power they needed to overcome their oppressors.

This was no ordinary sacrifice. No goat, cow, or fowl would work. In the scroll, it outlined the bleeding of a virgin girl, and not just any virgin. This virgin had to be not only of pure body but pure spirit, and holding the power of Themsulas … something not seen in over two hundred years.

Prompt: It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me.

It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me. It convinced me that it was time to let go. I had held onto this pain for so long, not wanting to give it up, thinking by doing so I was giving you up. Giving you up wasn’t an option.

I had fought for you for so long. Through all the tests, through all the procedures, through all the pain, you were the focus, the goal … and once I had you, I didn’t want to let you go.

I kept you as long as I could, as long as God allowed, but it was so short, so, so short. The pain of losing you was indescribable and something I don’t think I will ever quite get rid of, but your father is right.

It’s time to move on, never to forget, but to move on. I’m pregnant again, with what I hope is your little sister. Keep her safe until she is able to join your father and I. You both are so precious to us.

Prompt: “You point it at a group of people and it’ll obliterate everything in its path,”

“You point it at a group of people and it’ll obliterate everything in its path,” my associate tells me as I investigate the new product he gave me.

It looks so simple really. One would never think it would cause the damage that he claims, but he is most knowledgeable about such things. I have learned in the past not to doubt him. It usually didn’t end well for me.

Looking it over, I shot him one last dubious glance, but shrugged as I continued to imagine what this could do. He only stood there and watched me impassively. I laughed as my imagination ran away with me, filling my head with carnage and destruction, the likes of which have not been seen before.

“So, shall we?” I asked, failing to hide the smirk on my face.

“We shall, or should I say, you shall. You paid for it after all. My hands are clean,” he replied.

“Yes, I suppose you are right.” I sighed as I prepared myself. “Time to get the show on the road.”

I stepped forward, onto the red carpeted podium and to the microphone that was waiting. Once I stopped, the whole area quieted down in anticipation of my news.

“Today, we have for you, the world premiere of the latest Justin Bieber album!” I cried, holding the shiny silver jewel case above my head.

The roar of the crowd as soon as I uttered the teen sensation’s name was enough to break sound records. It was mind-numbing. I think the girls in the front actually fainted.

I grinned happily, as the crowd turned into a gibbering pile of goo in their excitement to get their hands on the new album. Ah, sweet success. It was devastating.

“Ugh,” I groaned as I pushed away from my desk, watching the door across the office floor open ponderously.

Every day, the same thing happened at the same time. The boss would walk out of his enclave looking like a king--or a tyrant as we usually called him—surveying his kingdom. He never actually came out on the floor, but stared from the threshold of his office door while all of his little workers scurrying away, toiling at their tasks, all for his gain.

If one of us was privileged with his glance, he may crack a smile, all the while staring down his nose. Usually, all we got was a barely satisfied glower. I hoped for the glower. The smile made me fill like I was on his radar and I most certainly did not want to be a target.

Mr. Masters, the boss/tyrant, did something unusual today. He actually stepped onto the office floor. He was actually blessing us with his presence. I was struck between the desire to hide from his gaze like I normally would, or watch to see what he would do next.

“You sure you want to do that, chief?” I asked, looking at my husband who was valiantly trying to fix the sink.

His voice was muffled from inside the cabinet but I could make out “It’s gotta get fixed, doesn’t it?”

“Erm, yeah, but shouldn’t you look at the instructions first?” I was biting my lip trying to avoid laughing. Neither one of us were handy around the house but we were determined to try. I always looked at the instructions first, even going as far as Googling videos just so I had an idea of what I was doing.

My dear husband’s approach was a little more direct, and usually ended up a little more expensive.

He dug in there with a ratchet, some pliers, a bucket, and vice grips … basically anything he thought might work to help fix the problem.

The bucket was probably the most useful tool he had with him.

“How hard can this be? I just need to tighten up this bolt here and adjust thi-”

My husband’s voice was cut off by the sound of rushing water, specifically running water slashing all over my husband.

“Son of a bitch!” my husband sputtered, wiggling out from underneath the sink as fast as he could. Once he was out of the way, the bucket went in, woefully too small to hold back the onslaught of water that was pouring out of the pipes.

With a snort, I ran downstairs and shut off the main water supply to the house and grabbed a bunch of old towels. At least my kitchen floors would be clean later today.

Screeching metal cut through the air, raising goosebumps on everyone in the yard. The workers looked around trying to find the source of the noise.

“Duck!” the foreman shouted at the top of his lungs, his face red with the force of his exertion.

Everyone dropped to the ground moments before a high pitched whistling could be heard over their heads as a girder flew through the air. The ten kilogram girder came to rest on the other side of the construction yard, buried deep in the loose dirt that was piled up. The men slowly rose from the ground, dusting off their pants as they looked at the scene.

“Damn, that was too fucking close!” the foreman said angrily, relieved that no one was hurt. If he had waited a moment longer to warn his crew, several of them would’ve been decapitated by the flying girder.

He walked swiftly through the yard, enraged that someone would be so careless. “Who is working that crane?” he demanded. “I want his ass down here this minute!”

I was dreading this moment. It was my ten year high school reunion. I was so different from the girl I was back then. I wondered if anyone would even recognize me. I was so shy; I doubted most people knew who I was. Perhaps they would just pigeonhole me into the role I was in back then ... and forget about me just as before.

The quiet girl in the corner was always looked over. Sure, I had thoughts back then, but I was so reserved, so afraid to be myself and tell others what was on my mind. High school showed me what real life was going to be like and that I needed to step up if I was going to make my mark. Life was nothing more than a popularity contest. Sure, smarts and skills would get you so far, but when it comes down to it, the prettiest and most popular always wins.

With that knowledge, I made a pact with myself that I would be different in college. I would be unique, I would be assertive, I would be remembered. I blossomed, becoming the person I never was, and who I always wanted to be.

Another year of that and she was sure she’d go mad. She was so tired of all the clingy, neediness of Scott. It was so hard for her to believe that one man could be so helpless. Perhaps he acted that way on purpose, assuming that she liked feeling needed. To a certain extent she did, but this was above and beyond what was necessary and what was called for in a normal, healthy relationship.

She was getting to the point where she just wanted to tie him up and leave him in a corner. He wouldn’t be able to bother her anymore and she would release him when she needed him. However, this definitely was not a healthy response to her problem, no matter how much the darker part of her personality revealed in the idea.

Drying her hands off on the dishtowel by the sink, she resolved to deal with the insanity of her pointless relationship before it infected her. She was a strong, determined woman who did not need people like Scott in her life bringing her down.

The object of her derision sat on the couch with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, idly watching television. This was where he was usually found. Of course he didn’t have a job, there wasn’t a job out there that was just the right fit for him, so he said. Joanna wanted to call him out on it, thinking he was far too comfortable on her couch to really try to find a job.

Ariel sat despondently on her barstool while she played with the straw of her drink. This place held such great memories for her and now, they had been tarnished by his actions. It was all his fault. Why did he have to say those things to her, here of all places? He could have easily have discussed this with her in some place more private.

He knew what he was doing, by staging it at Ariel’s favorite pub. John was an evil man and he wanted to ruin the one last happy thing she had left. He had taken everything else, her job, her friends, even her family. He had insinuated himself so tightly into her life and when he started to tear her down, she didn’t have a leg to stand on.

None of the rumors were true, but no one would believe her. He had everyone wrapped around his fingers. How anyone could believe that she would actually cheat on John, no matter how much of an asshole he was, was beyond her. She would never do that. Even after she discovered how truly heinous he was, she still would not have cheated. Ariel was merely biding her time until she could completely extricate herself from his clutches.

And now, he did that most efficiently and cruelly. The legal papers rested beside her drink on the table. “Petition for Divorce” screamed off the top of the page, letting everyone know what a failure she was.

I recently found this blog that runs a flash fiction contest. This is the first week for me. :) Seems to be fun so far. Glitter Word

Prompt: Bellweather (and a picture on the blog)

Here's my entry.

Preggo Cravings
The sparks were a bellweather of what was to come. The lights had been getting worse from just a few pin pricks in my field of vision to outright flame like images. Something was definitely wrong with my eyes. Ever since that asteroid landed in our backyard, things have been a bit wonky.

It wasn’t just my vision either. Suddenly, I developed a taste for pickles and mole. I hated pickles and mole. The best was pickles dipped in mole. Something about the vinegary, bitter flavor seemed to do it now. Maybe I was pregnant with an alien baby.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Prompt: I always thought that if I were going to write a novel, this is how it would start.

I always thought that if I were going to write a novel, this is how it would start. There would be some big bang of something exploding or something incredible that would hook the reader in. However, when I looked at this … this crap on my desk, I realized the only thing it would hook would be a nap.

Angrily, I crumbled up the few pages of crap I wrote and threw them into the metal trash can next to my desk. The can was starting to get full from all of the other bits of garbage I had tried to write.

There were so many distractions. First the kids ran in, assuming that if I was home, that meant I was available to them. Then someone would call me or text me … or the time suck of all, someone would mention me on Twitter. If I logged onto my twitter account, an hour would pass before I realized what happened. Once that happened, it was just a free pass to any kind of distraction … blog posts I just HAD to read, the news would be on, my husband would be home from work, the list was never-ending.

Methinks I needed to unplug my computer, grab my notebook, and go to the park to free myself of my home distractions … maybe I could write there and make something blow up … or something worth reading.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Prompts: Female, Guns, Odor, Shaggy, SPACE!
“Space, the final frontier … “ the television droned on through the opening credits of the original Star Trek while Lisa slouched on the couch, her eyes glazed over.

While the screen depicted a shaggy and young looking William Shatner traipsing around the universe looking to make as many female conquests as possible, Lisa’s mind was elsewhere.

She kept thinking back to the night before. The night where she first realized that guns have an odor, a metallic smell, a smell that was not pleasant. Lisa shuddered, hoping she’d never have to smell or feel a gun ever again.

Their smiles were all firmly in place; smiles that made you think that you were welcome, that you belonged.

That thought was erroneous.

They were always polite to me, but just as quickly, backs were turned and businesses closed when I approached. I held no place here. I was a stranger, a foreigner, not even the same species as everyone else. They never let me forget that difference.

The city had become my refuge, but my prison. I could no more go back to the verdant, velvety hills of my home planet than I could walk freely on this world.

They used those infernal devices to control their captive planets across the universe. Right when my fellow Rythgarns planned to assault our alien captors, the Dastivas would activate the satellites, devastating our world with electrical storms, furious winds, and everything in between. It was never enough to completely kill everyone but it kept any thought of an uprising far, far away from my suffering people.

The winds of change were with me. I would not let the Dastivas stop me from returning.

Before this spring, I had no idea what flash fiction was. By the graces of social media (Helloooo Twitter!) I came across 5MinuteFiction hosted by Leah Petersen and then this summer, I found the HumpDayChallenge hosted by Tracey Hansen. Both basically do the same thing, you are given prompts and then rules to write by.

With 5MinuteFiction (#5MinuteFiction @LeahPetersen), the name is very self-explanatory. You have five minutes to write as much as you can given the prompts on her blog. Either she or a guest judge select the top five and then they are voted on. The winner gets bragging rights, a blog badge, and sometimes additional swag. It's fun and doesn't take much time, but get those creative juices flowing ... and it is also a great way to meet other writers.

HumpDayChallenge operates slightly different (#HumpDayChallenge @THansenWrites). You have eight hours to write no more than 100 words with the prompts provided. Again, it is either judged by her or a guest judge.

Both are quite fun and I encourage anyone to give it a try.

I've been wanting to post my entries to my blog for awhile now so I can share with people, so when you see the comments for these two contests, you'll know what they are from. :) Enjoy the flash and hope to see you there!

Friday, September 2, 2011

This was my entry for this week's prompt to the picture blog I've had the pleasure of writing on for over the past year. In the past, I've linked the chapters of the mystery serial but I thought today was time for something different, something a little darker, a little more adult. What I love about the prompt blog is that it allows me to dabble into different genres of writing and see what really seems to sit well or what I really enjoy writing. I will always be a sci-fi nerd, but sometimes it's nice to tool around in a different playground.

Here's what I posted for this week. It is a bit more graphic than how I normally write, and also a bit darker. So be warned. I like it a lot, but I also know that this isn't the type of stuff that everyone gets into. If you decide to continue reading, I hope you enjoy it. Let me know at the bottom - drop me a line and tell me what you think. :)

One last comment - if you want to see the pictures that this prompt is based on, check out the blog at Writing Photo Prompt Challenge. They aren't necessary to enjoy the story but will add a visual.

Run

She chewed her fingers while they awkwardly sat in bed together. She never did stuff like this, and she wasn’t even sure what made her go through with it. He certainly was cute, but he was little more than a stranger.

The mattress shifted as he rose and left the room, not bothering to pull on any clothes. Now that he was out of the room, she was able to breathe a little easier.

“What am I supposed to do now?” she asked herself. “Do I send him on his way? Do we hang out a bit longer?” She realized she had no idea what the proper behavior was for a one-night stand, well one-day stand. It wasn’t even dusk yet.

Marlee swung her feet around until they were resting on the cool wood floor. The abruptness of the temperture change made her start. It also made her realize even more what she just did. Her father would be so ashamed of her. Marlee wasn’t a virgin, but it was very unlike her to treat sex so casually, even more so with someone she didn’t know. She wouldn’t even kiss cute guys at the club like her friends would. Marlee wasn’t a prude, but that kind of thing just didn’t interest her.

So why now? Why was he different?

The man in question walked back in the room, just as naked as he left it in. Marlee blushed as she looked over his body again. He smirked and walked to over to her, nudging her knees so he could stand standing in between her legs.

“Want seconds?” he asked, his voice smooth while he ran his hands up and down her arms.

Marlee didn’t respond, but arched into his touch. He smiled, his eyes darkening and his cock hardening. His hands created an explosion of sensations in Marlee, different than before, now that the eurphoric rush of their first time was over. She leaned back as he rested his knee on the mattress between her legs, putting his prominent erection near her face. Feeling inspired, she bent her neck and slid his cock in her mouth.

“Shit, baby,” he moaned, thrusting his hands in her hair and guiding her head as his hips started pumping. “Just like that, suck it.”

Marlee tried to keep up with his pace but she was not very experienced in giving blow jobs. She tried to pull away as she began to gag, but his hands kept her head fully in place.

“Yeah, baby, just go with it. Suck that cock.” His voice became more hoarse while she became more panicked.

Marlee finally twisted her head away enough to take a breath. He looked at her with a confused frown on his face. Angrily, she pushed him away. “What the fuck, Tony? Didn’t you feel me starting to gag? I couldn’t breathe.”

Tony’s face fell and he knealt down before Marlee. “Sorry, babe.” Gently, he brushed a lock of hair out of her face. “I was into it so much, it felt so good, I didn’t realize.” He rubbed his hands up and down her thighs as he looked at her. “Forgiven?” he asked, flashing a wide smile at her.

She wanted to stay mad, but his touch was making her want other things too badly. Giving in, she nodded and pulled his face to hers, kissing him. He took the lead she gave him and pushed her down on the bed, covering his body with hers. Marlee enjoyed the weight of him on her, pulling him even closer against her. He snaked an arm inbetweeen their bodies and pressed his hand against her clit, slipping a finger through her folds.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asked, rubbing her moist flesh and making her squirm.

“God, yes, just fuck me already!” Marlee exclaimed, startling herself over her words. The guy was bringing out a side of her that she wasn’t familiar with.

“Mmm, I think I want to play with you a bit more,” he murmurred, pushing two fingers inside of her.

His hand began moving faster, making Marlee twitch and thrash on the bed. She felt her impending orgasm beginning to build as her sensitive flesh continued to be masterfully handled. Right as she was about to crest, he removed his fingers.

“What the?” she asked, half drunk on the sensations as she sat up on her elbows.

“Flip over. You wanted me to fuck you, so I’m going to fuck you.”

Marlee’s eyes widened and her muscles clenched in anticipation. Quickly, she flipped over onto her hands and knees, waving her butt towards him. She had never tried this position before and was eager to see if it felt as good as her friends had said.

She felt the bed shift as he knealt behind her, running his hands over her ass. Suddenly, he smacked her full on the cheek, startling her.

“What the fuck was that?” she screeched, glaring back at Tony, her skin smarting.

“Just getting you ready, babe. Don’t you like that?” he cooed.

“No, I don’t,” she huffed.

“Okay, I’ll give you something you will like then,” he replied, leaning back and thrusting into her suddenly, his balls smacking against her skin.

Marlee’s exclamation was swallowed up by the intense pace that Tony began the moment he was inside her. There was nothing gentle about this. He was fucking her, hard. She had never been taken quite this roughly before and she realized she liked it. She liked it a lot.

“Fuck that ass,” Tony grunted, other words lost in his efforts.

With every deep push by Tony, Marlee cried out feeling ever inch of him in her body. Her nerves were on fire as her body clenched in anticipation of the orgasm it sought so badly.

“Oh“ Marlee cried inbetween thrusts. “God. Ton. Eee”

He was grunting with the effort he was putting into fucking her, gripping her hips almost painfully tight. The room filled with their animalistic noises, punctuated by their skin slapping together. Marlee’s cries became higher pitched as she came, her body seizing and her words intelligible.

Tony continued to pump into her, his pace becoming erractic, puncuated by a series of “Fuck”s. His final thrust was his deepest yet, and Marlee felt like she could feel him in the back of her throat he was so deep. He slumped against her body, spent and panting.

“That’s a good girl,” he said after he caught his breath. Tony pulled away, his flaccid cock slipping out easily.

Marlee collasped against the bed, her body feeling completely boneless. She hoped he’d lay down with her and cuddle for a little while but wasn’t sure if that was normally done with these kinds of hook-ups. Her question was answered when Tony stumbled out of the bed and reached for his clothes. He didn’t say a word as he walked back to the bathroom, presumably to clean up. Marlee surpressed a sigh of disappointment and decided to get cleaned up and dressed as well. Her stomach growled as she gathered her clothes, reminding her it was about dinner time.

“Hey Tony,” she called out.

“Yeah?” came the muffled reply through her bathroom door.

“You hungry?”

The door opened and a fully-clothed Tony appeared. “I could eat,” he replied with a smirk.

“Great. I’m starved. Let me get dressed and we can go. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure,” he replied, sitting down at her desk to wait.

Ten minutes later, Marlee and Tony pulled out of the parking lot of her building. He offered to drive, with the understanding it would make it easier for him to leave later when he dropped her back at her apartment. She went along with it, not thinking anything of it. Since they weren’t going to be gone long, she grabbed only a handful of cash and her ID, not wanting to be encombered by a purse or other effects, especially if that meant a third round in the car.

They were headed to a diner across town that Tony swore had the best food. She was a little uncomfortabe about going to a side of town she wasn’t as familiar with, but trusted Tony. Marlee began to get anxious when most of the town was behind them. She couldn’t see any restaurants ahead.

“Tony, where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he said, his voice low, a tone to his voice he had not heard before, one that made her shiver.

“Tony, I don’t think I’m hungry anymore. Can you take me home?”

He shook his head. “We’re almost there, Marlee.”

Fear began to coil in her stomach as the last lights of the city went by, leaving nothing but a dark road ahead of them. She tried not to doubt him, but she barely knew him, and had nothing to base her trust on besides a day between the sheets. A few more miles passed without any lights or signs of any diner.

“Tony, this isn’t funny. Take me home.”

“Just be patient, babe.”

“I’ve been patient,” Marlee argued, her voice rising. “I don’t know where we are and I’m not hungry anymore, so please take me home.”

Tony didn’t reply. Marlee opened her mouth to say something again when the car started to slow down. When the car turned onto a dirt road, she thought perhaps he was going to turn around after all. Hope and relief blossomed in her heart until he continued down the winding road. Despair squashed any hope she had, as fear took root deep inside her. The road was bumpy, gravel pinging against the sides of the car as he drove.

“Tony, please you’re scaring me,” she whispered.

“Good.”

His voice was cold, completely unlike the person she knew before.

“Tony?” Marlee asked, her voice even quieter.

He didn’t answer right away, looking straight ahead as the car bounced along the road. Marlee wrapped her arms around herself as she looked out the window to try to get her bearings. She was going to run as soon as the car stopped. She had some cash on her if she was able to find a phone to call a cab or to pay for gas if she hitched a ride with someone.

The pleasure she felt earlier felt like it was from an alternate universe. Surely this was just a dream. Surely she wasn’t out in the middle of nowhere with someone she barely knew with no way of calling for help. Surely she wasn’t that stupid, that trusting.

“Where are you taking me?” she finally asked, hoping to get any information she could from the man who seemed to have kidnapped her, even if she was willing at first.

“To the diner.”

Exasperated, she burst out. “Tony, there is no diner out here! We are in the middle of nowhere!”

“Oh, but there is,” he insisted softly.

“What’s the name of it then?” she asked impatiently.

“It really doesn’t have a name ... “ he hedged. “It’s a private diner, invitation only.” His smirk could be seen even in the dark. The car began to slow, approaching a low, flat building. Dim lights could be seen from teh back of the building. It did not look like any restaurant she had ever seen.

A chill went through Marlee.

“A private diner?”

“Yes, quite exclusive.”

“What do they serve?”

“Whatever the fresh catch of the day is,” he replied, his voice chilling but eager as he parked the car.

Tony slowly got out as Marlee did the same, her head swiveling from side to side taking in her surroundings. She took a few steps away from the car into the beams of the headlights that he left on. Marlee couldn’t hear a thing. No birds, no crickets, no nightlife.

“Tony?” Marlee asked.

When she didn’t get a response, she turned around and found that she was alone.

“Tony?” she asked again, her voice nothing but a whisper.

She walked a few more steps, not getting any closer to the building, staying an equal distance between the car and the small but imposing structure.

“Would you like to know what the catch of the day is, Marleee...” Tony’s voice swirled around her.

Marlee turned around, trying to find the source of his voice. It was as if it came out of thin air.

“Tony, where are you?” she called, turning around again. It felt like she was going on circles.

“You’re the catch of the day, Marlee...”

Tony’s voice sounded like it was right behind her. She spun around, not expecting anyone to be there, ust as before.

This time it was different. He stood a few feet behind her, tall and imposing, his eyes glinting from the headlights.

“What?”

“Run, Marlee,” he whispered, his voice full of menace. “Run, while you can.”

He reached towards her as he took a step forward. Marlee’s blood ran cold as she realized the danger she was in.

“I’m hungry, Marlee,” he sneered, taking another step. “And you are making me so hungry.”

Marlee backed up, afraid of turning her back on the man she thought she knew.

“You’ll like it, babe,” he purred, his voice sounding more like the man she knew back in her apartment. “I want to play with you some more.” As he finished, his words turned more sinister and he took another step towards her.

Marlee knew it was a different kind of game he wanted to play now. Her fear finally motivated her to act. She turned from Tony and ran as fast as she could. She had just cleared the driveway of the building when she heard his voice again.

“Run, Marlee...” Tony called, once again seeming to surround her.

Redoubling her efforts, she ran down the road in the direction she thought they came from. As she ran, she saw snippets of things from the corner of her eyes, things that looked like they were following her. She dared not turn her head to see what it was and distract herself.

Marlee’s lungs were burning and she desperately needed a break, but she didn’t dare slow down yet. She would run until she found the city and civilization again.

Marlee ran until several pairs of hands roughly grabbed her from behind and dragged her to the ground. Her scream was cut short as two more pairs wrapped around her neck and squeezed.

“Just like that,” Tony whispered, a smirk on his face while the others crowded around.